My True Love Given To Me
by Bad Mum
Summary: 12 Christmases, spanning 34 years, in the lives of Molly and Arthur Weasley. Love, laughter, fluff, family squabbles, tragedy and angst: we have everything here!For The Original Hufflepuff's Twelve Fics of Christmas Challenge. Sober Universe.
1. Dance

**My True Love Given To Me**

**I. Christmas 1965 - Dance**

When you have spent the last twelve months denying (to yourself and everyone else) that you fancy the tall, kind, red-headed boy in the year above, being confronted by reality at the Yule Ball is hard. Being confronted by reality in the shape of said boy dancing with your best friend is harder still.

"D'you want to dance, Moll?" Fabian had always been the gentleman of the family. Gideon, of course, was already dancing with the best-looking girl in his year. It would never occur to him to act the gentleman; certainly not towards his older sister.

Molly sighed as she let Fabian lead her onto the dance floor. Dancing with her kid brother while Arthur Weasley danced with Monica Springer was _not _what she wanted. But she'd never realised it until now.


	2. Kiss

**My True Love Given To Me**

**II. Christmas 1966 - Kiss**

"Mistletoe," said Arthur firmly.

"Wrong!" trilled the Fat Lady, with an air of triumph.

"Who said I was talking to you?"

Arthur pointed upwards, and grabbed a giggling Molly round the waist with his other hand. Someone - Arthur resolved to find out who and thank them later - had tied a large bunch of mistletoe over the Fat Lady's head. Arthur and Molly proceeded to make full and proper use of it, holding up several other Gryffindors who were on their way up to the common room or the dormitories.

Monica Springer scowled.

Several people applauded.

Gideon Prewett wolf-whistled.

Arthur and Molly didn't notice.


	3. Photograph

Thanks for all your reviews. I've never really written Molly and Arthur much before, and I'm having fun with this.

Re - the Yule Ball. I know there was only one in GoF because of the Triwizard Tournament, but I arbitrarily decided they might have one now and again for other reasons, and that 1965 was one such year...

The years won't be consecutive, as there are only 12 prompts in the challenge (and limited hours in the day in which to write!), and I'm aiming to cover 30+ years. So there will be some longish gaps.

This one turned out a lot, _lot_ longer. Hope you like it.

**My True Love Given To Me**

**III. Christmas 1970 – Photograph**

Christmas Eve. Molly cradles baby William, rocking him gently. (She refuses to call him Billy, despite his father and his uncles and his grandparents. He is _her _baby, and she chose the name William because she liked it, so that is what she will call him. She is very firm about this.) She is looking at the three pictures in the frame on the mantelpiece and smiling without knowing that she is doing so. The pictures and the frame are hers and Arthur's Christmas present to each other – all they can afford. (Though Arthur spent their last galleon on the red rose in the jam jar beside the frame, and he does not yet know about the light bulb – acquired from Monica's Muggle fiancé – carefully wrapped in tissue paper and hidden in the bottom of the wardrobe beneath a pile of baby clothes.)

Fabian took the first picture after he caught them kissing on the doorstep when Arthur brought her home from their Christmas Eve dinner a year ago. (It is a shame Arthur spent so much money in the fancy restaurant – all she can remember now about the meal is the ring hidden in her cracker, and the look in Arthur's eyes as he slipped it on her finger and asked her to marry him.) In the picture, Arthur is smart in his new suit, and Molly is wearing a red velvet dress that cost so much that she had to give everyone home-made fudge and hand-knitted scarves for Christmas. (This year it is mince pies and mittens. They are poor this year for other, better reasons.) The ring on Molly's finger is red like her dress, and nowhere near as big or as flashy as the diamond that Sean Finnigan has given Monica. Molly infinitely prefers her little ruby.

The second photo was taken five months to the day later. Arthur is beaming, and looking unnaturally tidy in his dress robes, a red rose in his buttonhole to match those in Molly's bouquet. Molly is smiling too, in her cream dress. ("Just as well it's not white," she heard Auntie Muriel mutter, as she walked up the aisle on her father's arm.) The alterations to the bust and waistline don't show at all. (Her mother had been mortified when they had to take the dress back to be let out, reducing Molly to tears with her strictures. But Madam Montana had been unfazed. "Never mind, dearie," she whispered when Mrs. Prewett's back was turned. "You're certainly not the first, and I doubt you'll be the last either.")

The third photo was taken this very afternoon. They had gone to Diagon Alley, baby William in his second-hand pram, wrapped snugly against the cold, to buy their Christmas present for each other. They had scrimped and saved, and had two galleons to spend on the gift, and a further one to buy a coffee each. Shopping took them a long time. Having next to no money gave them an odd sort of freedom, a sense of detachment from the slightly frantic crowds of shoppers desperate for the perfect present for husband or mother or child. Arthur and Molly knew their two galleons would not buy the perfect present, but they didn't mind. They had each other, and they had their son. They really didn't need anything else. Finally, after much window-shopping, laughing, stopping to feed the baby, stopping to change the baby, stopping to kiss under the mistletoe in yet another shop doorway, they found the gold and red frame in a tiny junk shop tucked in a corner between Eeylops' Owl Emporium and Jacko's Joke Jamboree. There was space in the frame for three pictures, and they only had two, but they knew they were making enough memories for a third picture not to be a problem.

On a freezing cold Christmas Eve, ice cream is not the obvious thing to spend your last galleon on. Coffee would be so much more sensible. But Arthur and Molly didn't feel sensible. They scarcely felt old enough to be married, let alone parents. So they went to Giovanni Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, and ordered a maple and chocolate sundae with whipped cream, extra nuts and two spoons.

Perhaps it was the fact that they _were _so very young. Perhaps it was their obvious in-loveness. Perhaps it was the fact that the baby was so very new, and so very beautiful with his fuzz of downy red hair and big blue eyes. Perhaps it was the fact that ice cream parlours don't do a lot of business on a cold Christmas Eve, and that Giovanni Fortescue was an incurable romantic. Whatever it was, he produced the largest ice cream sundae Arthur and Molly had ever seen, together with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, waving away both their protests and the proffered galleon. Giovanni's wife, Sophia, appeared at the baby's first whimper, picked him up and walked him round the room, as Molly and Arthur enjoyed their ice cream and chocolate at the best table in the place. Giovanni and Sophia's son, Florean, even made a brief appearance, making faces at the soppiness of people in love and the dottiness of his parents, and proclaiming from the lofty vantage point of thirteen years that babies were "boring".

At last the ice cream and the chocolate were gone, and Signora Fortescue reluctantly surrendered William back to his mother. Giovanni produced his camera, and refused to let Molly and Arthur leave until he had taken their photo, posing Arthur on one of the wrought iron chairs with Molly on his lap and the baby in her arms.

"The third picture for your frame," he proclaimed dramatically, as he presented the magically developed photo with a bow for Arthur and a kiss on the cheek each for Molly and the baby.

On the way home, Arthur spent the last galleon on the red rose for Molly.

Now Molly rocks her baby and smiles as she looks at the pictures and the rose, as she waits for Arthur to come in from cutting holly in the orchard beyond the house. They have no money, and the house is barely big enough even for the little family of three. (Arthur says they will be able to expand it as they need to if their family grows, and Molly believes him because she knows he loves her so much he would find a way to get the moon or the stars for her if she asked him to.)

She hears the back door bang, and Arthur stamping his feet on the mat. He enters, smiling, snow on his hair and cloak, his arms full of greenery. They have each other, and they have their son. It is going to be a perfect Christmas.


	4. Heart

This is fluffy and soppy.

But you're allowed to be fluffy and soppy at Christmas, right?

Please review (and if you missed reviewing the last chapter because of the site hiccups, review that one too!)

**My True Love Given To Me**

**IV. Christmas 1972 – Heart**

Molly stands at the kitchen window, rocking baby Charlie who has finally (finally!) stopped yelling and fallen asleep on her shoulder. Outside in the yard Arthur and Billy (Molly has to concede that she has lost the battle about his name) are building what she supposes is meant to be a snowman, although it doesn't look much like one at the moment. They are clearly both having a whale of a time, and Molly wonders briefly which one of them is two years old.

Charlie stirs and whimpers in his sleep, and Molly considers if she should risk trying to put him down in the blanket lined box (they can't afford a proper cradle) by the fireside so she can do something about clearing the debris of Christmas lunch on the table behind her. She decides against it. Billy was such an easy baby, happy to be put down for long periods of time, and content to watch what was going on with his bright blue eyes without having to be involved. Charlie, though less than a fortnight old, is already showing a very different personality. Unless he is being held – and preferably jiggled, rocked or walked to and fro - he is liable to scream the place down. He is obviously going to be a man of action.

The back door bangs open, and Arthur and Billy run in hand-in-hand, both wet, filthy and grinning identically.

"Come see snowman, Mumma!" commands Billy.

Charlie begins to yell again. Molly grabs a blanket to cover the baby, and follows her husband and son outside. The heap of snow in the yard now bears some small resemblance to a human being. The smaller lump on the top might be a head, with a bit of imagination, and Billy has arranged twigs and stones in some semblance of a face.

"It's lovely Billy!" Molly surrenders the still crying baby to Arthur, so she can pick up her elder son, and hug him. Arthur shifts Charlie onto one arm, so that he has the other free to put round his wife and Billy. The family stand together in the yard, regarding the lopsided snowman. Even Charlie has stopped crying, and now rewards his mother with a smile that makes her heart contract. (The books say babies this young don't smile. Molly knows better.)

She remembers the night before Charlie was born, looking at Billy asleep in his cot, and wondering how she could possibly, ever, love another child as much as she loves him. Now she knows better. Loving Charlie hasn't diminished her love for Billy. Love multiplies, not divides, she has discovered. Now she knows that, however many children she has, she will be able to love them all equally – if differently, because every child is different, as she is beginning to find out.

A mother's heart is always big enough.


	5. Phoenix

This one is a lot less fluffy. Hope you like it...

(Hope you don't think the way I've used the prompt is cheating!)

**V. Christmas 1977 – Phoenix**

"Molly, Arthur – you can't just ignore what's going on!" Gideon's voice was rising alarmingly, and his sister, who had long experience of his rages, sighed. Christmas Day with three young children was hard work enough, especially at nearly six months pregnant, without a family row to add to the mix. She looked at Arthur, hoping he had the words to deal with this, because she certainly didn't.

"We're not ignoring it, Gideon," Arthur began, in what he hoped was a reasonable voice. "But we have three kids. If we joined the Order and got killed what would happen to them?"

Gideon shook his head. "Can't you see that it's because of the kids that we have to fight? Do you seriously want Billy and Charlie and little Perce to grow up in a world with You Know Who in charge?" He gestured to his nephews, playing on the hearthrug in a jumble of wrapping paper and new toys, while the adults remained at the table, drinking coffee.

Molly was nearly in tears. "No, of course we don't but… We _can't _join the Order, Gideon, we just can't. We have to put the children first. They'd be targets if we joined. We can't risk that."

Gideon ran his hands through his hair. "Back me up here, Fabe," he implored. "I've run out of arguments."

"Look, Moll," Fabian said, putting his arm round his sister's shoulders, and speaking quietly. "You've got three kids. In a few months time, you'll have four…"

"Five," Molly interrupted him, in a small voice.

"What?" Both Gideon and Fabian were brought up short by that.

"Five kids. This is twins," Molly whispered, her hand on her swollen stomach.

Fabian let out a long breath, running his hands through his hair in a gesture identical to his brother's. "Well, that's one more reason then. You'll have _five_ kids that you don't want to grow up with You Know Who and his band of goons in charge. They'll be targets anyway, Moll. Anyone who doesn't think the way You Know Who does about Purebloods and Muggleborns and his way of doing things will be a target if we let him win. We _have_ to fight, Molly, we just have to. We don't have a choice."

Molly was crying now, and Arthur belatedly became aware that Bill and Charlie were listening avidly to every word that was being said.

"Boys, go into the living room," he commanded, putting his arm round his wife's heaving shoulders. "Go!" he repeated, forestalling the protests he knew were coming. Bill and Charlie exchanged a look. They knew there was no point in arguing when their father spoke in that tone of voice. Charlie pulled Percy to his feet, and the three of them left the room, Bill scowling, and Charlie glaring at their father. Percy, too young to even pick up on the atmosphere in the kitchen, was happily oblivious.

Once they were gone, Arthur turned back to his brothers-in-law. "You're right," he said quietly. "We _do_ have to fight. But your way of fighting isn't the only way. If we bring up our boys to think like we do, to oppose You Know Who and any other Dark wizard that might come along, then we are doing our part. The wizarding world has no future if today's kids aren't brought up to believe in what's right, and to fight against the Dark. But we can't fight as you're doing. Molly's right. We can't risk the children like that. I'm sorry. We don't have a choice either."

Gideon sighed, and exchanged a look with his brother, admitting defeat – at least for the moment.

Molly and Arthur sat together in their untidy living room that evening, Arthur's arms round his wife. Gideon and Fabian had gone – after a promised game of Quidditch with their nephews in the orchard – and the boys were finally in bed and asleep.

"Arthur?" Molly's voice was uncertain. "Do you think we're doing the right thing keeping out of the fight? It doesn't seem fair somehow…"

Arthur sighed. "I know. If there was a way of fighting and keeping the boys safe at the same time, I'd do it. But there isn't. You know there isn't."

"I know." There were tears in Molly's voice. "We have to keep our children safe." She stroked her swollen stomach almost unconsciously, and Arthur put his hands over hers.

"We're doing our bit Molly," he said quietly. "These two, and the others, and the other children of people who think the way we do _are _the future. As I said to Gid and Fabe, their way of fighting isn't the only way. I just hope all this is long over by the time any of our children are old enough to have to worry about it."

"Me too," Molly whispered, turning into her husband's embrace, and burying her face in his chest. "Me too."


	6. Surprise

Thanks to Cuba (Cuban Sombrero Girl) for the idea for this drabble.

**VI. Christmas 1980 – Surprise**

The living room was a mess of ripped and crumpled wrapping paper and new toys.

Two boys were setting up a brand new wizard chess set for a game, the elder of the two also trying to calm the crying baby he held on his lap.

A younger boy was looking at a new picture book (_"The Boys Book of Famous Wizards"_).

A set of identical twins, even younger, were disputing over who got first go on a toy broom.

Upstairs, their mother was being sick, while her husband held her hair.

It looked like there'd be seven children to buy presents for next Christmas.


	7. Victory: All Was Well

**VII. Christmas 1981 - Victory/All Was Well**

Arthur wondered if his wife was as acutely aware of the empty spaces at the Christmas dinner table as he was. Of course, there weren't any actual spaces. With six children and two adults round the table, it was easy enough to move the chairs a bit to make the gaps disappear. But he could see them still…

He looked at Molly, and realised she could too. Fabian, not Percy, should have been sitting between Bill and Charlie, and Gideon should have been separating the other pair of twins, who had their heads together now in a way that meant they were almost certainly plotting something. Arthur saw the sadness in Molly's brown eyes, the awareness of someone missing, as she got up to pick up baby Ginny, who was screaming loudly to make her feelings known about being left in her pram while everyone else ate dinner. (Surely none of the others had been as loud as babies? Well, Charlie maybe had…)

With a start, Arthur realised that Bill, leaning over to cut up Percy's meat and potatoes for him, had the same look of sadness and loss in his blue eyes as there was in his mother's brown ones. Dammit! The boy was barely eleven years old. He shouldn't have to look like that at his age…

Arthur sighed, as he scraped up the mess of potatoes and cabbage that Ronnie had managed to distribute all around his plate. Their side had won. You Know Who was defeated. Gone. All was well. They would never have to worry about their sons or their daughter having to fight as Gideon and Fabian had had to fight. They would never lose any of their children as they had lost Gid and Fabe. Their children would never have to make the choices about whether or not to fight that he and Molly had had to make. (Even now, they both wondered if their choice had been the right one…)

Their side had won.

He saw his wife blinking back tears as she fed their daughter.

He saw his eldest son laughing at something Charlie had said, but still with a look in his eyes that spoke of an awareness of who wasn't there.

They had won.

All was well.

But it was still hard.


	8. Firewhisky

**VIII. Christmas 1984 – Firewhisky**

Some Christmas days were hard work. It had begun well enough. The children were all up at the crack of dawn, of course, excited about their presents. (Bill and Charlie failing miserably in their attempt to pretend that they were too old for such things, and were just taking part to humour their younger brothers and sister). By the time the family sat down to breakfast, all wearing new jumpers, there was wrapping paper everywhere, and new toys distributed throughout the house.

The rest of the morning passed peacefully too, such things as a dispute between Percy and the twins over who owned the Albus Dumbledore chocolate frog card, and Charlie falling off his new broom and cutting his forehead being routine enough not to worry Arthur and Molly overmuch. Lunchtime was fine too.

After lunch, things went downhill rapidly. It had been snowing all morning, and Ronnie and Ginny were eager to go to the orchard to build a snowman. But Arthur and Molly were drinking their after lunch coffee and reluctant to move, and Bill and Charlie were far too absorbed in their game of Helter-Skelter Hippogriffs to take them. Percy and the twins had disappeared upstairs, and were being unnaturally quiet. Afterwards, Molly and Arthur realised that that boded ill and that they should have investigated sooner.

The relative calm was rudely shattered by Fred and George tumbling into the living room, looking scared, and both talking at once. They were sufficiently incoherent that only the words "Percy", "blankets", "Charlie's wand" and "didn't mean it" were distinguishable. Going upstairs to investigate, Arthur found Percy in George's bed, being slowly squashed and strangled by the blankets that the twins had somehow managed to jinx using Charlie's wand, which now lay discarded on the floor. Retribution was swift. Within ten minutes, Percy was sitting on his mother's lap drinking hot chocolate and having a story read to him, and the twins had been banished to bed. (Fred was in Ronnie's bed, because the twins' parents didn't trust them together when in disgrace).

Arthur was now reading his second son a long lecture on the iniquity of leaving his wand where the twins could find it.

"Why is it my fault when it was Fred and George that did it? They should leave my stuff alone!" Charlie was truculence personified.

"Because you know jolly well they _won't_ leave your wand alone if you leave it lying around. You've been told often enough, Charlie. Bill manages to remember."

Charlie scowled. "Yeah, well I'm not bloody perfect like Bill, am I?"

(Bill decided this would be an opportune moment to take Ronnie and Ginny out to the orchard to make that snowman.)

Charlie was banished to his bedroom too for rudeness, Percy curled up on the settee with a new book, and the house was blessedly quiet for an hour or so.

It was not to last. The back door opened with a bang, and Ronnie came in crying, rapidly followed by Bill, carrying a screaming Ginny and yelling for his mother.

"She fell on the ice by the broom shed. I tried to catch her. I think her arm's broken. I'm sorry, Mum." Bill was nearly in tears too.

"It's not your fault, Bill, accidents happen," Molly said, examining her daughter's arm, which was in fact broken. "Get the Skele-Grow. It's on the top shelf in the pantry."

By tea time, all was relatively peaceful. Ginny's arm was mended. Percy was happy again, though he still glared at Fred and George across the table. Charlie too had been freed from his imprisonment, though he was pointedly ignoring both his father and his elder brother.

Bedtime for the younger children came eventually. Coming downstairs wearily after a battle royal with Ronnie, who did _not _want to go to bed, Molly found Arthur collapsed on the settee drinking a large glass of firewhisky.

"Did you talk to Bill and Charlie?" she asked, sinking down beside her husband, and _accio-_ing a glass from the sideboard for herself.

"Yeah. I think Charlie has forgiven me, and Bill finally believed Ginny's accident wasn't his fault when I told him so for the tenth time. They're making up a team for the fantasy Quidditch League in the _'Prophet'_."

Molly groaned as Arthur poured a large dose of firewhisky into her glass. "How much is that going to cost us?"

Arthur laughed. "Only a Galleon. I told them I'd pay it if they cleaned out the chickens every day for the rest of the holidays, _and _de-gnomed the garden."

Molly took a large gulp of her firewhisky and smiled. "That's _almost_ worth it. Though as long as they're being quiet for the moment, and stay upstairs, I don't really care _what _they're doing."

"What about the others?" Arthur asked.

"Ginny's asleep, poor baby. So are the twins – in the same bed, but I wasn't going to wake them up to argue about it. Percy's reading. And Ronnie isn't asleep, but I think he's heading that way."

Arthur sighed. "Thank goodness for that." He drained his glass, and reached for the firewhisky bottle. "Remind me again why we decided to have seven kids."

Molly smiled, as she leaned over to kiss him. "I can't imagine. It must have seemed like a good idea at the time."

Arthur put down his glass, and pulled her into his arms. "I love you Molly Prewett."

She snuggled into him, as he lifted his wand to lock the living room door and put a silencing charm around the room. "I love you too, Arthur Weasley."


	9. Quaffle

Well, this one isn't very Christmassy, but tough! This prompt was the hardest of the lot in my opinion - especially as I can't write Quidditch to save my life. Hope you like it anyway.

**IX. Christmas 1988 – Quaffle**

Molly wondered quite how this had happened. How had a _"We'll think about it,"_ when Fred asked if they could go and see the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw match taking place just before Christmas, turned into a definite promise to go? Families didn't normally go to school Quidditch matches, but this one had been postponed several times due to truly appalling weather (and weather bad enough to stop Quidditch _had _to be appalling), and perhaps it was the nearness to Christmas and a generally festive feel in the air that meant that the Weasleys were by no means the only family in the stands on a frosty Saturday twelve days before Christmas.

Molly didn't even _like_ Quidditch, and with two of her sons playing, she knew she'd spend the entire match worrying that something dreadful would happen to one of them. But Arthur had insisted that, since everyone else was going, she should come too, and her fond plans of a day to herself Christmas shopping and maybe even having her hair done had been abandoned. She had to concede that Arthur had a point. The twins were wildly excited, and Ron and Ginny very nearly as bad, and it really wouldn't have been fair to leave Arthur to cope with them on his own. Percy was there too, of course, in his school robes and Gryffindor scarf, trying unsuccessfully to hide the fact that he was as proud of being _Brother-of-the-Gryffindor-Quidditch-Captain _as he was of being _Brother-of-the-Head-Boy_, but he could be relied upon to behave himself most of the time.

The teams marched out onto the pitch, and Charlie and the Ravenclaw captain shook hands, before Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the players kicked off and rose into the air. Molly heard a couple of students behind them in conversation about Gryffindor's chances. _("D'you think Weasley'll be any good as captain?" "Bound to be isn't he? He's a bloody good Seeker." "Doesn't necessarily mean he's a good captain. Looks like favouritism to me, putting his brother on the team." "Oh come on, Bill Weasley's been on the team for three years already, and he's good. He scored eight against Slytherin last term, in case you've forgotten. Anyway, Charlie cares too much about winning to put someone on the team who doesn't deserve to be there, whether it's his brother or not.")_ The twins were both glaring at the speaker who dared to question either of their brothers' abilities, but were being restrained from intervening by their father's hands on their shoulders and the warning look in his eyes.

But they were soon too wrapped up in the match to worry about anyone else's opinions. Molly could see that they were closely watching the Beaters, obviously having decided that that was the position for them (_"They look pretty old to me, George, they'll be gone in a year or two." "Yeah, they must be nearly as old as Bill. So that leaves a gap for us – if we're good enough." "What're you talking about? Of __**course**_ _we'll be good enough.")_

Molly herself was making no attempt to follow the game, though she was vaguely aware that Gryffindor were in the lead, and that Bill had scored twice. She knew Arthur thought she worried too much, but she couldn't help thinking that Charlie, circling the field above the play, was flying much too high, and that Bill should be more concerned than he seemed to be about the number of Bludgers that had barely missed him.

Sixty minutes in, Gryffindor were winning one hundred to seventy, and this time the Bludger didn't miss. Molly gasped, and felt Arthur grip her hand as the Bludger caught Bill hard on the shoulder, sending him plummeting to the ground. She was on her feet, but prevented from moving by Arthur holding on to her. Even Percy seemed to think she should stay where she was. _("You can't go down there, Mum. Bill'd never forgive you. Nor would Charlie.")_ The players had landed, as Madam Hooch and Madam Pomfrey tended to Bill, who seemed to his mother's eyes to be lying horribly still. Charlie, after a rapid glance at his brother - presumably to check that he was still breathing – was talking to the rest of his team, gesticulating wildly and obviously giving them instructions. _("He cares more about the game than the fact his brother's hurt," Molly said tearfully. "He's the __**captain**__, Mum, he has to. If he's lost a Chaser, they need to change how they're playing." Fred's explanation was slightly condescending, but not unkind. "Anyway, Bill's okay – look, he's getting up.")_

Bill was indeed on his feet, swaying slightly, but apparently insisting to Madam Pomfrey and Madam Hooch that he was alright. Charlie, realising what was happening, had come over and was clearly backing his brother up. Molly groaned quietly and closed her eyes, as the players – including Bill – remounted their brooms and kicked off.

Fortunately for her nerves, the match didn't go on much longer. Ten minutes after Bill's fall, Charlie suddenly streaked down from where he had been hovering near the Ravenclaw goal posts, catching the Snitch a few feet above the ground before the opposing Seeker even realised what was happening. The Gryffindor stands erupted with cheering, and the team converged on Charlie, whooping with joy.

Molly sat down weakly, wiping tears from her eyes and letting her head fall onto Arthur's shoulder. He hugged her tight, laughing at her slightly, but loving her for her concern for her boys.

Molly managed a shaky laugh. "Now all we have to worry about is persuading Fred and George they _don't _want Beaters' bats for Christmas…"


	10. Mirror

Angst for Christmas!

Have a good one!

And please review!

**X. Christmas 1995 – Mirror**

The mirror in the bedroom at 12 Grimmauld Place is cracked and dirty, but she can see enough of herself in it to know that she has looked better. Not surprising really.

She had nearly lost Arthur.

She had nearly lost Arthur.

However many times she says it to herself, it still does not seem real.

The night is a blur in her memory. She had been trying to sleep, though it was hard with Arthur out on duty for the Order. After what had happened to Gideon and Fabian, she knew only too well what that might mean.

And then – the message from Minerva McGonagall. Arthur was hurt. Harry knew somehow - how didn't matter. All that mattered was that Arthur was hurt.

Getting to St. Mungo's, barely aware of how. The concern on the faces of the Mediwizards. Arthur lying so still, so pale, as if he might be dead already. Sending a message to the children, telling them to stay where they were; knowing that the twins at least would rebel against that edict. Holding Arthur's hand, willing him to wake up.

Bill arriving, putting his arm around her, telling her it would be alright. How had that happened? When had it turned round so _he_ was the one looking after _her_?

And then, blessedly, Arthur waking up and smiling at her.

He would be alright.

He would be alright.

Crying with relief in Bill's arms.

Bill crying too, and trying to pretend he wasn't.

Getting to Grimmauld Place. The children waiting for her. The looks on their faces when she told them their father would be okay. Fred – Fred of all people – collapsing in a chair with his hands over his face. George and Ginny hugging her. Ron making a sound that was halfway between a sob and a laugh.

None of it seems real.

She had nearly lost Arthur.

She had nearly lost Arthur.

She smiles wanly at her reflection in the mirror.

He was going to be alright.

He was going to be alright.


	11. Patronus

Mm. Not sure about this one. It didn't turn out at all like I planned.

One more to go. I might even get it done before the New Year!

**XI. Christmas 1997 – Patronus**

Arthur sends his patronus to Molly at least twice a day to let her know that he is alright. And he is always relieved when her silvery rabbit appears, letting him know that she too is okay. It is false comfort of course. They both know that things can change in a minute; that by continuing to work at the Ministry he is running a risk; that the protective wards about The Burrow could be breached at any time; that they are blood traitors, and so a legitimate target in the eyes of the new regime. With all that has happened to their family – in the first war and in this new, somehow more sinister one (more sinister because it began so insidiously, so quietly, unnoticed by many; because only now do some people believe it is real – now, when it is practically too late) – they would be foolish to believe that they are safe, that any safety they do feel will last for long.

Molly is decorating and cooking for Christmas, of course. And knitting. Christmas would not be Christmas without Molly's jumpers. Even though the children (he still thinks of them as children, even though all but Ginny are officially grown up) laugh about them, they would be upset not to get one.

Except Percy maybe… Molly still makes a jumper for Percy, because she cannot help herself, but she doesn't send them to him since he returned his two Christmases ago. Arthur sees Percy at work sometimes, but he always turns away, refuses to meet his father's eyes. Arthur clings to Dumbledore's words that people find it much harder to forgive others for being right than for being wrong; to the hope that Percy will one day find the courage to come back to his family, to admit that _he_ was the one who was wrong. (He must do eventually. Surely they brought him up well enough that sooner or later he will come to his senses?) Arthur hopes that Percy's brothers and sister will accept him back when that happens. (He knows there is no question about himself or Molly doing so. He is their son.)

And Molly cannot send Ron's, or Harry's, or Hermione's jumpers either, because nobody knows where they are or what they are doing, what the mission Dumbledore left them is. Arthur believes (he has to) that they would know – surely they would know – if they had died or been captured; but their absence, and the constant worry about them, wears him and Molly down. They put on a brave face for the rest of the world, and even succeed in deceiving the other children most of the time, but they cannot fool each other.

Bill and Charlie won't be home for Christmas either – Bill, because he and Fleur want to spend their first Christmas as a married couple alone, and Charlie, because _someone_ has to look after those bloody dragons, even at Christmas.

So it will be himself and Molly, the twins and Ginny for Christmas day. They will make the best of it. Molly will cook her usual spectacular meal, because she cannot do anything less. The twins will make jokes because – well, because that is what the twins do, even though they know as well as anyone what might happen, how much danger their family is in; even though both of them (perhaps Fred even more than George) had reality brought home to them with a jolt when George lost his ear in the summer: he could have died. Ginny will eat the meal, and laugh at the jokes, and tell him off when he refers to her as his little girl, and try to hide how much she is missing Harry (and Ron and Hermione too, but mainly Harry) because that is the brave thing, the Gryffindor thing, the _Weasley _thing to do.

Dementors could be sent away, driven off by their patronuses. What they are facing now is worse because there is nothing they can do. Nothing. They have to live with it. Fight, yes, but knowing all the while that the eventual outcome is outside their control, that something could happen at any time that will tear their family apart, and they can do nothing to prevent it.

So he and Molly send their patronuses to and fro as reassurances that are not reassurances. They tell themselves and each other that Bill and Charlie can look after themselves. Bill survived that attack by Greyback – surely someone who can come through something like that can come through anything alive if not exactly unscathed? And Charlie is safer in Romania than he would be in England – dragons are a known danger, that even Molly has almost stopped worrying about after so many years. And Percy is at least safe in the Ministry, and will come back to them one day. They check on Fred and George at the shop more often than the twins are comfortable with, because if anyone will do something stupid or reckless, it is them. They reassure each other that – even with Snape and the Carrows in charge – Ginny is as safe at Hogwarts as she would be anywhere else. And they hope against hope that somehow, somewhere, Ron is okay, and that he and Harry and Hermione will bring this to an end one day.

Because faith and hope are all he and Molly have now.

And they cannot let them go, or they will have lost.


	12. Victory: All Is Well

This is the last one!

Many thanks to Aimee (The Original Hufflepuff) for setting the challenge - I have really enjoyed writing this story. This chapter uses two prompts - the same ones as chapter 7, though I've changed one slightly.

Please read the author's note at the end...

**XII. Christmas 1999 – Victory/All Is Well**

George is showing Victoire the Christmas tree. Fleur glances across from where she is talking to Penelope and Hermione and smiles. Bill is watching his brother and his daughter, half-smiling, a faraway look in his eyes. Neither of them makes any move to get up. Molly has noticed this before. Both of them trust George implicitly with Victoire. If one of the others was holding her, either Bill or Fleur would be hovering close, trying to pretend that they weren't. If it was _Ron _holding her, one of them would be six inches away, with no attempt at pretence at all. (Even after three months as an uncle, Ron still holds the baby as if she were a Quaffle he had saved by accident.)

But George is different. Perhaps it is because Bill and Fleur recognise, as do Molly and Arthur, that Victoire's birth has done more to heal George than anything else in the year and a half since his twin died. George has even been allowed to babysit – albeit for only forty-five minutes – which is more than Molly herself has yet been permitted.

Bill unwinds himself from his chair and strolls over to where George is explaining the different colours of the tree decorations to his niece.

"She doesn't understand a word you're saying, you do know that, don't you?" he asks George laughingly.

George turns eyes of mock horror on his eldest brother. "Of course she does! Why are you in such a hurry to think your own daughter is stupid?"

"I don't think she's stupid, I just think she's a baby," Bill protests.

George lifts Victoire up to his face and half whispers to her. "Your daddy thinks you're stupid, but we know better, don't we Vic?" He catches Bill's eye, and grins. "Oops, sorry. I'm not supposed to call her that, am I?"

Bill grins too (as much as he can, when half his face won't move properly because of the scars.) "Oh, _I _don't care. Just don't let _Fleur_ hear you, or you will be in trouble."

Molly blinks back tears as she watches her sons and her granddaughter. George's grin is pure – George – the old George, before Fred died. And there is a spark of Fred in his eyes too. The same spark is in Bill's eyes as he takes his daughter from George and holds her close. Fred is a part of all of them, and always will be. _That _is their victory. They will miss Fred always – George more than any of them – and there will still be hard days when his loss will seem unbearable. At every Christmas, every wedding or birthday, at the birth of each one of the nieces and nephews who will never know their Uncle Fred, they will miss him. But he is still a part of them, a part of their family, a part of the world he died to save for the children he would never meet.

And Molly understands for the first time why Bill and Fleur chose their daughter's name. She had not understood before. She has even privately thought that it was heartless of Bill to call his daughter "Victory" when the victory cost his brother's life. (She has not said this to Bill of course, but she suspects he knows anyway.) Now she understands. The victory is that the world goes on, that _they_ go on, living and laughing and loving each other. As Fred would want. As Fred would have done himself, if he had still been with them. Bill's eyes meet his mother's over the top of his daughter's head, and he smiles at her. They understand each other now.

All is well.

Arthur comes over and puts his arm around his wife. "We've done a good job," he whispers, his gaze also on Bill, George and Victoire.

Molly knows what he means, and rests her head on his shoulder, looking round at her family. At Percy, laughing at a joke Ron has told. At Charlie, Harry and Ginny discussing the weekend's Quidditch match. At Fleur, Penelope and Hermione giggling like schoolgirls as Fleur tries unsuccessfully to work a spell to straighten Hermione's hair. At Bill, George and the baby by the Christmas tree.

"We have," she agrees. "They're going to be alright. All of them."

All is well.

"I love you, Molly Prewett," murmurs Arthur, pulling her to her feet and over to the door, where Charlie has hung a huge bunch of mistletoe.

"I love you too, Arthur Weasley," Molly whispers, as his arms go round her and he kisses her.

Charlie and George wolf-whistle.

The others applaud.

Molly and Arthur don't notice.

All is well.

_XXXXXXXXX_

_A/N: Sorry if you were expecting this chapter to be the first Christmas after Fred's death (1998). There are three reasons why I chose not to do that one. The first is that I've covered that Christmas pretty extensively in my other (ongoing) fic "Birthdays". (And in response to a question - yes, this is the same universe as "Birthdays". I have this annoyingly obsessive thing about my fics having to agree with each other.) The second reason is that I wanted to end the story with an element of hope, which I felt would be unrealistic so soon after the family lost Fred. The third is that using Victoire's name for the "Victory" prompt, was irresistable, if slightly predictable!_

_If you hadn't gathered, Penelope is Penelope Clearwater, Percy's girlfriend from CoS, who ends up with Percy in my universe. And Arthur calls Molly "Molly Prewett" because she is still the girl he fell in love with, all those years ago..._

_A Happy New Year to all of you!_


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